


to get close

by thisissirius



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28137048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: The thing about being a double agent is that it gets messy.It would just be nice if there was less espionage and more punching involved.By punching, she of course means ripping and tearing. The fun stuff.It just leaves a lot of pent up shit under her skin, is all she’s getting at.
Relationships: Lilith Bathory/Randall Carpio/Hamish Duke/Jack Morton
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	to get close

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surreptitiously](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surreptitiously/gifts).



> Hope this is what you were looking for. I loved your prompt about the OT4 doing things and being ridiculous and in love, so went with that here. Happy Yuletide :)

The thing about being a double agent is that it gets messy. 

Lilith’s not saying she’s not down for that kind of shit, okay, because the whole point of the Knights is to destroy The Order, capitals emphasised. It would just be nice if there was less espionage and more punching involved.

By punching, she of course means ripping and tearing. The fun stuff. 

It just leaves a lot of pent up  _ stuff _ under her skin, is all she’s getting at. 

Which is why, when the four of them are safe back under the roof of their house, she’s itching for a fight. 

“Well, we pulled that off,” Randall says, hands on his hips, looking satisfied. 

Lilith rolls her eyes, shares a smirk with Jack, who’s got one leg thrown over the arm of the couch, the other pressed against her thigh. 

Randall means the heist, of course. Getting back their magic shit and their lockers. Timber feels more relaxed under her skin, and it stops the steady skin crawl of irritation and fear that things were shifting away from them too fast.

So. Espionage is done. Theft is done. 

“Why do we have to stay in The Order again,” Randall says, narrowing his eyes. 

“Because,” Hamish says, all gravitas and grace as he heads for the bar. Of fucking course. “It’s easier to take from the inside.”

Lilith stares up at the ceiling. “We should just go in, rip everyone to pieces, and come out again. Problem solved.”

Jack snorts, sliding down until his head’s pillowed on her thighs. Timber rumbles, though it’s not so much irritation as comfort. Lilith wonders when that changed; when her wolf became less  _ me _ and more  _ us _ . 

When she became more  _ pack _ than loner. 

Lilith grabs a fistful of Jack’s hair. If she tugs hard, she can make it hurt. If she relaxes her fingers, it means she can smooth it out. 

Jack stares up at her. “What?”

“You should go back to blonde.” Her smile is all teeth. 

Flipping her the middle finger, Jack digs his elbow into her knee. She allows it.

Hamish clinks some glasses together, draws them up and towards him. He’s always been good at that, the center of gravity pulling them into the places they need to be and making it seem natural. 

“You  _ do _ love me,” Jack whispers as he rises, breath hot against the shell of her ear. She rolls her eyes but doesn’t refute it. Whatever. Love is relative, yeah? She loves Timber. She loves Randall and Hamish. She loves Nicole. 

“Loser,” she says, just to be contrary, and shoves Jack off the couch. 

Hamish and Randall laugh, though Randall leans down, fingers tight against the curve of Jack’s elbow. He whispers something low that she can’t hear, but it has Jack’s smirk softening into a smile and he lets Randall drag him to his feet. 

“The long game,” Jack comments, standing a step closer to Randall than it’s necessary to be. 

“The long game,” Hamish agrees.

God, Lilith thinks, grabbing her drink and downing it hard. The amount of eye gazing Hamish and Jack do on a regular basis is almost disgusting. She pours another, gestures at Randall. “Take a shot everytime these two eye fuck with everyone else in the room.”

“Or,” Randall says, over Jack and Hamish’s mostly token protests. “We could just take a shot every time one of us thinks about fucking another.”

“What,” Jack says, not really a question, but Lilith notices he holds up his glass for another drink. 

This, she can work with. 

“I’m not saying you’re not hot,” she shrugs, and as soon as her glass is full, meets Jack’s gaze and holds it. Downs the shot quickly and smirks. “You were okay.”

“Oh fuck you,” Jack says, reaching for the bottle. It says a lot about the moment that Hamish doesn’t try to stop him. 

They’re doing this, apparently, and she can’t say she’s sorry. They share this house, this space, and it’s hard to do that and not think, sometimes, what it’d be like if you were pressed skin to skin. Not that Jack lives them with. Or he does  _ now. _

Werewolves get naked a lot, it’s a thing. 

Or. Maybe it’s just a them thing. 

“So,” Jack says, when he’s filled the glasses. When nobody says anything, he gestures between Randall and Hamish. “You guys kissed once, right?”

Lilith laughs as both Hamish and Randall take their shots. “Nice.”

“Don’t think I don’t know about the kiss with Randall, Lilith,” Jack continues, smirking in that infuriating but hot way of his. Lilith hates him, but takes the shot anyway, making sure to keep staring straight at Jack. Again. 

Randall frowns. “She wasn’t looking at me, though.”

“Nope,” Lilith says, popping the p. She holds out the shot glass for Hamish to refill and moves her gaze to Randall. “But I could.”

They both take their shots simultaneously. 

And so it goes. 

Until; 

“Okay,” Randall says from somewhere behind Lilith. “I’ve imagined fucking each of you so much I’m not completely sure we haven’t.”

“We haven’t,” Lilith assures him. 

“But we could,” Jack points out. 

“We could.” Hamish says it like it’s a done deal.

Maybe it is. 

“But,” Jack says, rolling over and knocking into Lilith’s leg. “What about feelings?”

“Gross,” Lilith mutters. 

“We don’t have to have them,” Randall says. He leans up onto his elbows, peers at each of them in turn. Something about the look makes Lilith’s skin heat. 

Hamish sighs loudly. “But we could.”

There’s a murmur of agreement from Jack and even Lilith makes an assenting noise. 

It’s not that she’s got them now. She’s just agreeing. Sometime, maybe, she might have them. Get them. Whatever. 

Someone moves. Later, she still can’t remember who, and there’s a flurry of motion. Clothes, she thinks, have never been a prerequisite for being comfortable in the house. There’s a lot of whiteness in the room but she gets through it, slides a hand back into Jack’s hair. He goes boneless pretty quickly, down to his knees and she smirks. 

Randall presses up behind her, Hamish’s eyes glowing brightly in the growing darkness. 

This, she’s good at. Skin on skin, lips on lips, and the breathy moans of need. 

Not her first time, but maybe the first time it matters. 

Things get ruined so easily but not this, not them. 

The tension bleeds into need and Lilith tips her head back against Randall’s shoulder, the slide of Hamish’s hand against her breast, her hip. Jack’s mouth hot against her, driving her higher until all she knows is them. 

Later, when they’re sacked out on the floor, she closes her eyes and breathes. 

“Have we been headed for this the whole time?” Randall wonders aloud. 

“Duh,” she says. 

Jack makes a soft noise. “Less noise. More sleeping.”

Hamish grunts in a manner that means  _ shut the fuck up _ and they do. 

Lilith doesn’t mind the silence;

It’s not really, when Jack’s heavy breathing in her ear, Randall’s muttering something from her left, and Hamish is sighing loudly and asking if Jack will please move his elbow until it’s at least his fingers if he’s gonna be pressing any body part against his dick. 

Laughing, Lilith thinks  _ this is what Pack means _ .


End file.
